"No very flattering preference," thought he: "so much the safer for us. Well, Alice, it shall be as you wish. Are you comfortable where you are, in your new lodgings?" "No." "Why, they do not insult you?" "No; but they make a noise, and I like to be quiet to think of you." The young philosopher was reconciled again to his scheme. "Well, Alice--go back--I will take a cottage to-morrow, and you shall be my servant, and I will teach you to read and write and say your prayers, and know that you have a Father above who loves you better than he below. Meet me again at the same hour to-morrow. Why do you cry, Alice? why do you cry?" "Because--because," sobbed the girl, "I am so happy, and I shall live with you and see you." "Go, child--go, child," said Maltravers, hastily; and he walked away with a quicker pulse than became his new character of master and preceptor. He looked back, and saw the girl gazing at him; he waved his hand, and she moved on and followed him slowly back to the town. Maltravers, though not an elder son, was the heir of affluent fortunes; he enjoyed a munificent allowance that sufficed for the whims of a youth who had learned in Germany none of the extravagant notions common to young Englishmen of similar birth and prospects. He was a spoiled child, with no law but his own fancy,--his return home was not expected,--there was nothing to prevent the indulgence of his new caprice. The next day he hired a cottage in the neighbourhood, which was one of those pretty thatched edifices, with verandas and monthly roses, a conservatory and a lawn, which justify the English proverb about a cottage and love. It had been built by a mercantile bachelor for some Fair Rosamond, and did credit to his taste. An old woman, let with the house, was to cook and do the work. Alice was but a nominal servant. Neither the old woman nor the landlord comprehended the Platonic intentions of the young stranger. But he paid his rent in advance, and they were not particular. He, however, thought it prudent to conceal his name. It was one sure to be known in a town not very distant from the residence of his father, a wealthy and long-descended country gentleman. He adopted, therefore, the common name of Butler; which, indeed, belonged to one of his maternal connections, and by that name alone was he known in the neighbourhood and to Alice. From her he would not have sought concealment,--but somehow or other no occasion ever presented itself to induce him to talk much to her of his parentage or birth. CHAPTER V. "Thought would destroy their Paradise."--GRAY.